The Party (14 page)

Polly was upset. She’d printed up sixty invitations and at least three times that number had barged through her front door. These people—they didn’t care how much they ate, what they dropped on the floor. And they were so noisy! At Alice’s insistence, she’d combined the speakers from their two bedroom stereos and arranged them in the corners of the living room. When the dial on the receiver was set at six, the house vibrated. Naturally, someone had jacked the setting up to ten! She already had a splitting headache. She almost hoped the police showed up when ten o’clock rolled around and neighborhood noise restrictions went into effect. It was going to take something drastic to get this herd out of here. She wished she had never allowed herself to be talked into this blasted party. That Alice—she got her way too much.

Polly had another reason to be angry at her sister. Despite her promise, Alice had invited Clark to the party.

“How do I kill these ugly critters here?” Russ asked, nodding at the TV screen, slurring his words. He’d asked for a little whiskey in his beer. She didn’t mind obliging him, though ordinarily she hated the smell of alcohol. She considered Russ a very special guy. He seemed to like her.

“You have to identify who they are first, what their powers might be. Most witches you can just shoot at and kill. But a disembodied spirit, you need a magic potion to get rid of them.”

“Huh,” Russ grunted, rubbing his red eyes. The poor dear, it had been hot again yesterday afternoon when he’d run the cross country race. She’d been one of the few present, shouting her support. She’d been glad when he won. Sara and Jessica hadn’t bothered to stop by. “What are these?” he asked.

“Witches,” she said. “Just blow them away and go on.”

He fumbled with the button on the joy stick. “They won’t die,” he complained. They wouldn’t die because he kept missing them by several inches. Frustrated, he dropped the joy stick on the floor and took a gulp of his beer. She had never seen anybody, teenager or adult, who had his thirst. He belched loudly. “Where’s Sara?”

She smiled pleasantly. “She not here. She’s sick.”

“Sick?”

“She gets sick a lot. I never get sick. I’m one of the healthiest people I know. At the hospital, they’re always having me come back to donate blood.”

Russ looked confused. “I’ve got to talk to Sara.”

“Why? You can talk to me.”

He tried to stand, without much success. “She’s got my axe.”

Polly put him back in his chair. She had just spotted Alice heading for the living room, possibly for upstairs. That girl had better not be planning to go in the pool. Someone had to keep up with all these guests. Polly felt she had already done more than her fair share.

“Stay here,” she said, getting up. She still had the axe in the trunk of her Mercedes. “I’ll try to find it for you.”

Russ scratched his head. “Why did Sara give it to you?”

Leaving the game room, Polly noticed Jessica gossiping with Bill Skater. Clair Hilrey vanishes for a second and Jessica takes her place. The same thing had been going on all week at school. Polly thought Jessica a fool. She had a sharp guy like Michael Olson interested in her, and she pursued a lug like Bill. If she had a guy, Polly swore, any guy, who really respected her, she would treat him right. Jessica had a lot to learn.

Alice did indeed head upstairs. Polly followed her carefully. They’d placed a sign on the front door stating the top floor was off limits. A few people had ignored it, to use the second floor bathrooms, which Polly supposed was better than their using the bushes.

Two short flights of stairs led to the upper floor. Polly paused on the landing. Alice was talking to that greasy guy from the gas station near the turn in the hall. Kats—another example of someone they had not invited. With the loud music, Polly couldn’t hear what he was saying. But she didn’t like how he was grinning at her sister. She wouldn’t be surprised if Alice was encouraging him.

She changed her mind a moment later. Kats wouldn’t let Alice into her room. He’d stretched his hairy arm across her bedroom door. Alice looked around uneasily. Polly hurried up the remaining flight of stairs, strode down the hallway.

“Hi,” she said to Kats. “How are you?”

He took his hand off the door frame, stepped back. “Great! Far-out party you’re having.”

She smiled. l’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” She took Alice by the arm. “Excuse me, I have to speak with my sister.”

She led Alice around the corner and into the room at the end of the hall. It used to be their parents’ bedroom years ago. Polly opened the door, turned on the light. A sudden flash dazzled her eyes. The light died. Old bulb, burned out. She stumbled forward, searching for the lamp on the nightstand in the corner. They were the only two pieces of furniture in the room. There wasn’t even a rug.

“What was that all about?” she asked, turning on the lamp.

“Nothing,” Alice said, closing the door behind her. “He wanted to talk, and I wanted to get into my room and change.”

The floor had recently been polished. The glare of the light from the lamp’s naked bulb reflecting on the hard wood irritated Polly’s eyes.

“You’re not going in the pool.”

Alice put her hand on her hip, pouted. “Yes, I am.”

“That isn’t fair. I’m sick and tired of running all over the house making sure everybody’s having a good time. I’d like a few minutes to relax.”

“Fine, relax. The party will carry on just fine without either of us.”

“Sure, just drop everything. In case you didn’t know, we’re out of paper cups downstairs.”

Although the room appeared empty, its closets were jammed. They kept Christmas decorations, party stuff, etcetera in the space where their parents had hung their clothes. Earlier, while preparing for the party, they had gone through the closets. There was still an aluminum ladder parked against the wall. Taking hold of the middle rungs, Alice spread it out beside one closet door.

“I’ll get the cups,” she said. “Then I’m going in the water. I don’t care what you say.”

“Who’ll greet the guests? Not me.”

“Most of the guests are here. A lot of them are already leaving.”

Polly moved closer, stepping in front of the lamp, casting a shadow over her sister. “Somebody is not here yet.”

Alice paused halfway up the ladder. “He’s not coming,” she said.

“He said he was when he called this afternoon. That’s what he told me.” She took another step closer, put her hand out to support the ladder. It was old, unsteady. “Why did you tell him about the party?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then how did he find out about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Alice closed her eyes briefly, leaning her head back, taking a deep breath. Her doctor had taught her that, just breathe and blow your troubles away. A bunch of hogwash. “I told you, I’m not seeing him anymore. I didn’t tell him about the party. He must have heard about it from someone else. Jessica, or Sara maybe.”

“Neither of them has even met Clark.”

“He could have called when they were helping us get ready this morning. One of them could have answered the phone.”

“Did they say that?”

Alice shook her head, went up another step. “Leave me alone.”

“You want me to let go of the ladder? If I do, you’ll fall and break your neck. Anyway, why are you suddenly down on Clark? What did he do?”

Alice opened the closet, pulled out a mass of tangled Christmas tree lights. “Nothing.”

“Did he say something about me?”

“No. What would he say about you?”

“Oh, excuse me, I guess you’ve forgotten I used to go out with him.”

Alice tried pushing the lights aside, trying to get to the brown box that held the paper cups. The Christmas lights kept tangling in her hands. “I know who told him about the party,” she said softly.

“Who?”

“You.”

Polly let go of the ladder, chuckled. “What?”

Alice glared at her. “Admit it, you wanted him to come tonight. I’ve broken up with him, and you want to see if you can get him back. Well, he’s not coming. I called him not three hours ago and told him he wasn’t welcome.”

“Why, you little—”

“Listen to me, Polly! Stay away from him. He doesn’t just have weird ideas, he does weird stuff. He’s dangerous.”

Polly found herself trembling. How dare her sister, her
baby
sister, talk to her this way! Such filthy lies! Yet she didn’t yell at her. The top of a ladder was no place to fight. There could be an accident, somebody might get hurt. She knew about that sort of thing. She tried to calm herself.

Besides, she was—
curious
. “What sort of weird stuff?” she asked.

Shaking her head, Alice climbed down. “I’m going. Goodbye.”

She opened the door. “What about the cups?” Polly cried.

“I’ll get them later,” Alice called over her shoulder, slamming the door behind her. Polly stood for a moment staring at the bright bulb, even though it hurt her eyes and made her headache worse. She hadn’t invited Clark. Why would Alice say that? She was pretty sure she hadn’t invited him. And she had a good memory for such things,

Polly resolved not to get the cups no matter who complained. Alice had said she would take care of it, and Alice had to learn to be responsible. But while the ladder was out, she figured she might as well change the overhead bulb. The lamp didn’t go on when you threw the switch by the door. She didn’t want someone looking for the bathroom stumbling and breaking a leg.

Polly found a package of 100 watt bulbs beside the Christmas lights. Holding the replacements in one hand, she scooted the ladder to the center of the room with the other. Climbing the ladder, she reached around the shade and began to fiddle with the old bulb. She couldn’t see it but she could feel it, dusty and delicate beneath her damp fingers.

All of a sudden, she realized exactly how wet her hands were.

Russ must have spilled some beer on me or something.

The light switch beside the door remained in the on position. The bulb couldn’t have been completely dead. As she turned it counterclockwise, it flickered on. Water and light bulbs make poor companions. It exploded in her hand, and her fingers slipped directly into the charged socket.

The electric shock shot through the length of Polly’s body. Her footing vanished beneath her. She had no chance to brace herself for the fall. She hit the floor on her right hip, hard, the impact sending a jolt through her spine and into her skull. Her headache blossomed from a minor irritation into a red wave of agony.

Then everything turned dark and cool, for how long she wasn’t sure. When she opened her eyes next, the ceiling looked miles away. She sat up, shook herself. The fingers of her right hand were bleeding. She slowly got to her feet, using the wall for support. Glass from the shattered bulb lay scattered across the hard wooden floor.

Lord, I could have electrocuted myself.

She needed a bandage for her hand. She could fix the bulb another time. Clark might show up any moment. She did remember now; she had told him to come over late, after most of the people were gone. That didn’t excuse Alice’s insolence, though, not by any means. She would have to have a word with her about being respectful, for her own good.

Bill Skater didn’t talk much. Jessica had always been attracted to the strong, silent type. Like Michael, she had discovered Bill to be an excellent listener. She did wish, however, that he would occasionally volunteer something. Hanging out with him, she often felt as if she were playing bounce with a flat ball.

The Rock, on the other hand, enjoyed talking, and surprisingly, had much of interest to say. He was telling her about the work he did with disadvantaged kids downtown. He had a loud, boisterous voice, and a childish enthusiasm she found appealing. In many ways he was like one of the kids he helped. She and Bill were drinking beer, but The Rock had ten minutes ago recoiled from her offer of one as if she had suggested a deadly shot of heroin. He had quickly reassured her that he had nothing against her drinking, it just wasn’t his style.

“We have it so easy in this part of town,” The Rock said. “We have the ocean to swim in, the beach to run along. Everything’s clean: the stores, the sidewalks. But in the ghettos, those kids have nothing but asphalt, plugged sewers, and drugs. There’re dealers everywhere. Crack’s the big thing these days, that hard cocaine people smoke.” He shook his head in disgust. “Just last week I was approached by a twelve year old kid trying to sell me the stuff.”

“How did you get involved in the Big Brother Program?” Jessica asked. He had such obvious sympathy for black kids, she wondered how the feud between him and Nick had ever started. She didn’t have the nerve to ask.

“I had to pick up a pal at the L.A. bus station. You know where that is, right in the heart of the city? There was this black kid—found out later he was only eight—bumming change at the entrance. He hit me up for a nickel. Imagine, just a nickel! I asked him what he wanted it for. He told me food. I took ahold of his arm. It felt like a chicken bone.”

The Rock went on to describe how he took him for a sandwich and learned how the boy slept in a garbage dump. He discovered there were dozens of kids like him all over the city, that they had no parents, no one to help them. His conscience called. He became a Big Brother. To this day, he regularly saw that first boy—Emmanuel.

Then The Rock switched the topic to football, and almost immediately Jessica found her mind wandering, back to the previous Monday morning when Bill had approached her after Mr. Bark’s political science class. That morning she’d had to read a paper on why she thought the electoral college system should be abolished. Mr. Bark had given her an A on the piece. She had spent three hours researching the paper in the library the previous day. Bill had wanted to compliment her on a job well done. Those were, in fact, his exact words. She had blushed.

“Thank you. But to tell you the truth, I didn’t understand half of what I was saying.”

“I thought you were very clear,” he said. He had an unusually smooth complexion. The blue of his eyes reminded her of the Mediterranean skies of her vacation. “What was your name?”

“Jessie.”

“That’s right.” They talked for a few minutes about purely inconsequential matters: the weather, the state of the union. Finally the question came. “What are you doing for lunch, Jessie?”

Life was good. Her legs felt weak. She told him she was free.

He took her for Chinese food in the mall. She had fun. Well, she had fun looking at him. They didn’t exactly enjoy an instant rapport. Possibly because the team was doing badly, but he wouldn’t even discuss football. She still didn’t know what his interests were. Since Sara had told her how assertive he could be during student council meetings, she found his shyness confusing. Over lunch, and at other times in the week, he often seemed uncomfortable in her presence. She decided she would have to give it time. She had already made up her mind about one thing. She wanted to have sex with him.

A girl is always supposed to remember her first. Why shouldn’t I start with the best?

Jessica was tired of daydreaming about making love. She had been doing that since she was in the seventh grade. It left her feeling unsatisfied, to say the least. It left her frustrated. She wanted the real thing, and she wasn’t going to wait till she got married. It wasn’t only because she was horny, she was just incredibly curious to see what it was like. When Bill finally asked her out on a real date, if he made a move, she had already decided she wasn’t going to stop him. She couldn’t wait to see the rest of that hard body. She was already investigating types of contraceptives.

Her decision surprised even her. A year earlier it would have been unimaginable. She had always considered herself fairly moral. For instance, her cheating on the chemistry quiz still bothered her. But her outlook had grown far more liberal in the last year, largely because of her European vacation. When she had first arrived on the beaches of southern France, and seen people nude sunbathing, it had been a shock. But by the end of the week—when her parents weren’t around, of course—she had joined the crowd.

But there was still that big question—
when
Bill asked her out. When was that going to be? Clair had to be the reason for the delay. Jessica had never spoken to him when she was around. The one time she had broached the topic of his involvement with her, he had changed the subject.

The Rock wrapped up a story about some opposing lineman whose knee he had cracked in a dozen places and went off to change into his swimming trunks. Left alone with Bill, Jessica racked her brain for something to talk about. Bill continued to sip his beer, watching things go on about him. Suddenly Clair swept back into the room in an unfastened beach cover-up and red bikini. In a cheerleader uniform, Clair projected a certain sex appeal. In this reasonable excuse for total nudity, she looked positively nasty. All legs, chest—enough clear brown flesh to exhaust any red-blooded American boy’s fantasy reserve. Bill started to stand up. Clair grabbed his hands and pulled him into her arms.

“Let’s go big boy,” she said. “Time to get wet.” She glanced up. “Time to get down.”

“All right, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Clair grinned and asked what on the surface appeared to be a redundant question. “In the pool?”

“Yeah,” Bill said.

She patted his rump. “OK, OK, the water first. Hurry.” And completely ignoring Jessica, she turned and left.

“Did you want to go swimming?” Bill asked uneasily, setting down his beer.

Why buy contraceptives when I might be able to borrow Clair’s?

She had bought a new bathing suit for the party. To compete with Clair, however, she should have purchased breast implants. She smiled, although it hurt to do so. She wouldn’t ask what the deal was, not yet. “Another time, maybe,” she said.

Alone, she started to search for Michael. She’d seen him come in. She just wanted someone to talk to.